tv [untitled] October 8, 2010 7:00am-7:30am PST
head if it wasn't attached. this was my mother. i wondered if her death would release me or if i was doomed to norman bates territory. he will be here in five minutes. half an hour later, after i squeezed. we were awkward as wall flowers. the lamp was already blazing with intensity. my growing hard on >> he seemed amenable. he got cold feet?
may be he lost interest. ben shrugged. who knows. i would be with us in the second. i am serious. don't you feel abandoned. it's a three way honey, i don't think two people can feel abandoned. he might be late. i looked at the clock again. 25 minutes. only hustlers can get away with that. he's not a hustler? ben turned and looked at me. you think i bought us a hustler? how pathettic tic do you think we are? >> i sort of felt like he
targeted us. i didn't get that sense. may be i'm wrong. ben smiled. you are disappointed. no , i said, no just annoyed. he pulled down the waist band. i don't need a mercy suck. he looked up. mercy suck. whatever. undeterred ben got down to business. mercy i said, there was when mr. johnson knocked on the door. you may have figured it out by now. to us, he was still the great dark man. a mythical man or object to
desire. it was probably why we jumped to attention. jesus. tucking the incriminating evidence. wait. let this go down first. >> why? i don't know. seems rude. ben widened his eyes at me. did you learn that from miss manners. i hid myself. this probably made me look grand. that somehow seemed preferable. men opened the door. he was standing there. i'm sorry fellows. come on in. our visitor shot a quick glance.
can we get you something to drink? remaining seated. there's a soda machine. no thanks. did you have a hard time finding us. i'm michael i said. finally standing. this is ben. he shook our hands. i'm patrees. i am worried that it might make me squirm. i found it hospitable. that it put he more at easy. we're glad you came.
arising. i tried to make it easier for him. we always play safe. so it's something else. we waited for the penny to drop. i do your momma's hair. this simply did not compute. ben looked up at him completely open mouthed. what he murmured. i do his momma's hair. in this moment of raw revelation. the obvious pride she showed in
her new hair dresser. i thought you were a woman. how did you about who we were? >> she has a picture of y'all in her room. y'all by waterfall. she talks about you all the time. jesus said ben. what are the chances of this? patrice shrugged. why didn't you say something earlier? they ain't going to happen with your momma in the conversation. i liked the way he naild that
down. i felt bad about it later. i almost didn't come. i need a break from here and it might as well be y'all. how often does he get her hair done. i do her make up too. you cover up the blue. she has emphysema. she got to worrying about it. it must have been lennor. she looks really good. i like to work on old ladies.
no one objected. he pulled me closer. within seconds he had us both in hand. like an eager barby doll. sorry. every now and then, my own visuals overwhelm me. then he went down on both. i can understand why my editor didn't want this. then we went down, never neglecting either one of us. ben pulled my face into his and kissed me. in a three way, there's always
the danger of being left out. i never felt unwelcome on the ride. by the time we were naked, by the time i shot my load, i rolled it on to patrice. he came on all fours. never touches himself. i know because i was under neath, catching the flash. ben stayed there. his heart beating hard. then my cell phone rang. it's programmed to ring like an
old 40's ring. leave it said ben. from the middle of the panting stack of men. nobody move said ben. there was a brief silent. or at least when i do. sorry. that's okay said ben. patrice rolled off the bed. then he flickinged it into the toilet. what's this? his head was on my which of the now. that's an orchid. it keeps coming back. one with
of those extra touches that mean a lot. he stared down at this offering. it don't look right somehow. i know. especially with a condom on it. he cleaned up at the sink. he started gathering up his clothes. hang with us for a while. busy day tomorrow. >> my other job, bacheloret party. i strip for private parties. that's what this is for.
he was stepping into his fatigues. apparently impressed. it ain't worth the bus fair half the time. patrice shrubbed. if a sister has a plate of ribs, there's no way to held her attention. ben and i laughed. i'm serious. tickled to his response. i am up there working my ass off and they are sitting down there with their press on nails. tough crowd. they say they like the mens, he
francisco from 2006. his powerful voice set the tone, his latest book, "all that's left". >> my voice is a little untuned. very simply so they are not any question of anxiety or worry. on march 14th, i decided to take an operation on my carotted artery and therefore. i don't want to go out by a stroke. i would rather go out another
way. the operation was perfectly senseful. there wasn't pain. they put a tube down your throat. so i lost my voice for a month or 2. therefore, i ask your indulgence. i will read in this voice, if you don't mind. i am very pleased this book came out. i am going to read with the war. the war drug on.
over a toga pot. that's import that war boil. that's bile that gag or jail roomy and oath and the war is cocked. air and fuel the plague and watch him of his hunter of ash guard down the stinking hole. they were shacked up from to be done. >> [applause]. >> this house of hunger, for the american kids who go to sleep each night without supper.
this house of hunger has millions of kids in it. breakfast and lunch is all their worth. famished of billions of bucks in them. what pretty prophets have set before king's death. they stink with the stench of unmitigated treaty. their indifference included in their digital speeds. while those kids lie in bed without a cup of bullion in their head. also kill the children, american you shootful.
and the murders you plant in your own backyard. keep insisting your democracy. but in the starving darkness, those sad, lost eyes know the truths of your lies that you sold all the marbles in their little sacks to the bullies who applaud because they won't give them back. you have stolen the bread that cried from their mouths and turned it into dirty dough. when finally they manage to fall asleep, their dreams cause you the haunted house. the spell of the sun to burn
you down so that greeds flee and steal the good things for hungry little bellies to eat. between the page, with the heart and the mind, wrestling upon it. and the year which later will receive those limbs of light as perfect harmony. there's a stillness who's volume speaks word of words defiant. treasures of the unstable. secrets of the heavy enchantment and the never
ending gathering at the lips of the kiss of poem. now, >> [applause]. >> now, i understand them causing an enormous amount of anguish of my voice. i brought my girlfriend. she is going to read 3 poems to you so you get another dimention of my voice. please welcome, agnes ford >> the house of the setting sun. the comrade again and the poorist way wave you. to the red flag.
i put my mount to your misery new orleans. here, war lies piles so high. this floating prison of a cementary cries of range. this delta lies on its side. rows and rows upon it's own government and crushed. summertime is over and the living is dead. and around midnight all hopes are looted. no one will ever come clean of the katrina of the new orleans and the stinking house of the setting sun. but it's the black and the blue
of the loving on the shoes, let alone a dime or water, america, you are always scotched earth in our mouth. always a rain of disaster of streams of our broken eyes. now the rags are the most turn. our pores the poorest that can be worn in the souls shop. now that all is lost and there is only nothing to lose. long live the courage and the poor. they begin to waiver.
[applause]. >> vennetia. i was enranged at your body enettia. chicanery that cried out of an awfulor gast. slowly i found you should side streets where you practice a strolling stillness without any engine sounds and the skies turning on into color and then eternal magnificence of twilight, it accompanies your every move and theirs doubt
about it, you are more adorable without the car wrapped around you, where you can be what you are. walking water. that gently laps. i have come to you this midnight and lane down in your black body with it's soft red blush and pulled the starkly blue cover over a cheek or moon blushing through the midst. and the final for me. juna. that's juna bomb. that she lived on board avenue. 3 blocks away from the street isn't bronx i grew up on. just what are you getting out
june abonus, that an alphabet, i would be visiting on a masterpiece and writing a bistro of poems. scones. 47 years later. she has long since ash, the world has become unmitigated cash. a woman gazing into the face of a cell phone. i gave me lover a cherry and lived on. endure these bitter hips and hot heads and the empty collapse.